There is something ingenious about grandmothers wrapping up food. My own g-ma was a fastidious tin foil salvager--judging by the foil's wrinkles and loss of sheen, my sandwich was the 17th that had been protected by that malleable metal.
But the two Marie's here (Michal's grandmothers have the same name) are on a higher level of salvage. This past spring, I received walnut berry cake, skillfully wrapped in layers of bread bag, carefully snuggled into an empty Kleenex container, held tight with a giant rubber band.
Likewise, when I opened the fridge yesterday, I found a plastic tub that once held grapes, full of a special meat and soy patty,(Karbonatky) covered and lined inside by plastic bread bag. The whole thing rubber banded in place like a little girl's pony tail.
A large cake box, greasily addressed to Michal, held a surprisingly benign looking hill of white rolls. Turns out they're Buchty, sweet bread rolls filled with a thick plum jelly. Heated up, they're pretty delicious.
Never judge a book by its cover, or could it be the other way around?
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